Hedgehog
by starlight.moon.princess
Summary: John Watson oddly resembles a hedgehog. Or, the five times someone thought that John was a hedgehog, and the one time someone told him. Not crack, somehow. Johnlock, hints of Mystrade.


**I don't even know anymore...**

**Somehow, this isn't crack.**

**Written for the OTP Bootcamp (49. Whispers) in BBC Sherlock Challenges forum.**

**Don't forget to review!**

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**i.**

Martha Hudson's motherly instinct was well known. After all, she was the only one capable of and willing to deal with Sherlock on a daily basis without going insane.

So when Sherlock came to 221B Baker Street with an injured soldier – Doctor John Watson, he said – trailing behind him, she immediately knew that he would be the newest one of her projects. The poor dear would undoubtedly need to be mothered, what with the fact that he was obviously traumatised from the war, and living with Sherlock would undoubtedly make things all the more stressful for him.

Which was why she agreed to make him cup of tea when he asked for it. She wasn't going to make it a habit, of course, but the poor boy looked so shell-shocked after his first introduction to all of Sherlock's madness that it tugged on her heartstrings.

And then he decided that he was going to follow Sherlock about in chasing criminals and getting caught up in all kinds of nasty, dangerous situations, which forced her to change her first impression of him.

John Watson looked completely harmless in those large jumpers of his, but in all actuality he was rather like the hedgehog that Mrs Turner had once found in her garden – capable of becoming very dangerous when he was threatened. Of course, in this case it was Sherlock being threatened that would anger him, but still, the thought held.

"Mrs Hudson! Can you bring over some gauze? I'm out of it and Sherlock's gone and cut himself _again_!"

It was a good thing that John Watson had hidden depths, she decided. He'd never be able to keep up with Sherlock otherwise, and god knew that Sherlock was in desperate need of a keeper.

**ii.**

Mycroft Holmes rather thought that John Watson was going to be like every other person who had ever entered Sherlock's life. Dull, boring, and all to willing to be _convinced_ to spy on him or leave him.

After all, the man had gone to war for Queen and country, and Mycroft, no matter how much he liked to protest it, essentially _was_ the country. There was no way that John Watson would disobey a direct order from him – he was just too touchingly loyal to England. And even if Mycroft had miscalculated the amount of love the good Doctor held for his country, he was a rather intimidating man, if he said so himself. John would be too scared to refuse him.

But John Watson was…surprising, to say the least. Not only did he refuse to accept Mycroft's very generous incentive to keep him informed of his brother's behaviour, he also displayed no fear of him whatsoever, telling Sherlock about their encounter even when specifically instructed not to.

Even though it was a rather fanciful thought, John could not help but remind Mycroft of the one pet that Sherlock had managed to look after, a hedgehog which would bristle up whenever it thought anyone was trying to Sherlock.

_New case. Would be greatly appreciated if you convince Sherlock to take it._

_-M_

It wouldn't do to push John too far, Mycroft decided. He would have to limit the kidnapping to truly important cases only.

**iii.**

The first time Sally saw John Watson, she felt a stab of pity for the poor bloke. Not only was he forced to deal with the Freak as a flatmate, it seemed the psychopath that Lestrade insisted on them dealing with was pulling him into murder cases. Couldn't he see that the man was injured?

A quick discussion with David once the Freak had left showed that he was in complete agreement with her. Sherlock Holmes was a danger to John Watson, and something had to be done to get him out of the madman's clutches.

The drugs bust had seemed like the perfect excuse. It hadn't been their idea, so there was nothing Sherlock could do, and once John saw that he flatmate used to be, and possibly still was, a druggie, there was no chance he would stick around.

Of course, it soon became obvious that they had severely underestimated John Watson. Sure, he seemed disappointed at the fact that Sherlock was once a user, but he was more pissed off at them, bristling like a provoked hedgehog.

"Hello Sally."

"Boss, Holmes is here!"

"Anderson."

"Holmes."

Yes, it was probably best not to anger John Watson. He was obviously sticking around, and there would be no telling what he would do if Sherlock was threatened.

**iv.**

If there was one person Greg Lestrade did not understand, it was John Watson.

The man obviously had no business being on a crime scene. Sure, he was a doctor and an ex-Army officer, but the Yard had plenty of both of those to help Sherlock. There was no need for him to drag an injured war veteran through crime scenes where he had no business being, and John shouldn't have let Sherlock boss him around.

Greg worried. He worried what would happen if John's PTSD – it was obvious that he had it, you didn't need to be Sherlock Homes to tell – acted up, if John decided that he couldn't live with Sherlock just as the mad genius got used to him.

And then John shot and killed a man for Sherlock.

Of course, Sherlock tried to cover it up, but regardless of what he believed, Greg wasn't an idiot, he just wasn't interested in pursuing a case that would be judged self-defense, or, more than likely, where all evidence would be destroyed by Myc before the case even reached the courts.

John wasn't the traumatised war vet he appeared to be. In fact, he sort of reminded Greg of that one hedgehog that had wandered into Mycroft's tennis court by mistake – he looked utterly adorable and defenseless, but it was just a clever disguise for the pelt of spikes he possessed.

"John, Sherlock wouldn't happen to have stolen the deceased's heels from evidence, would he?"

It was best to stay on John's good side, Greg thought. After all, if he could shoot a man cleanly from a completely different building, there was no telling what he would do to Greg from five feet away.

**v.**

When Jim first saw Sherlock's little pet, he reminded him of a dog. Stupid and mindlessly loyal – the comparisons were obvious.

Which was why he kidnapped him. It was obvious that Sherlock would come to save him, and it was just as obvious that the good Doctor would do whatever Sherlock told him to – that is, stay still and let the smart people talk.

And then he jumped on Jim's back and offered to kill himself to take Jim out.

No, John Watson wasn't a dog at all, for all his outward appearances. He was rather like a hedgehog.

How _fascinating_. Jim could certainly see why Sherlock kept Doctor Watson around.

He'd have to change a few of his plans to accommodate this new revelation, of course, but he wasn't put off. No, the game had just gotten even more _interesting_.

**+i.**

"I cannot believe you could be so careless, Sherlock! I can put with everything you do, but honestly, you were after an axe-murderer! Why did not stop to check if the suspect chasing you – oh I don't know, was chasing you with a bloody axe? A few steps to the left, and we wouldn't have caught the guy, we'd have been too busy picking up what was left of you! I have half a mind to-"

Sherlock stared at the angry, shouting man in front of him. There was only one way he could think of to shut John up. Besides, the sight of John in this state meant that it wouldn't be too much of a hardship on him.

"-you do something like that and I'll call Mycroft, I swear-Mmph." John was cut off mid-lecture by the feel of Sherlock's lips on his own.

At first, he struggled a bit. Sherlock was not getting out of the well-needed yell so easily. But then Sherlock cupped his face in his hand and nibbled at lips, begging him to enter his mouth, and John couldn't help but give in to the temptation posed by Sherlock's luscious lips.

As John's tongue entered Sherlock's mouth, he was certain that he had found heaven. He was loath to let Sherlock go, but unfortunately, the human body was not designed for prolonged survival without oxygen, and the two of them had to separate.

"Not that I'm complaining," John said, panting, "but what brought that on?"

"Did you know you rather resemble a hedgehog when you're angry and protective? I never quite believed all that mindless chatter everyone else has been indulging in, but it's quite true. I find that it's oddly arousing," was the only answer Sherlock gave him before flouncing off to check on his latest experiment.

John watched him go with dazed eyes. That had been the best kiss he had ever experienced, han- wait a second.

"Sherlock! What do you mean by hedgehog?"


End file.
